


The Attribute of the Strong

by NorthernStar



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Episode Tag: The Queen Must Die, F/M, Forgiveness, M/M, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernStar/pseuds/NorthernStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> I understand…your reasons why you did it, </i> Pythagoras had said,<i> But I will never forgive you.</i></p>
<p>Set during the finale, between the escape from Atlantis and their arrival at the beach, this is Icarus' journey to being forgiven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not that big a fan of the series to be honest - I'd hestitate to call myself even a minor fan if I'm _really_ honest - and certainly never imagined actually writing for it. But I did enjoy the character of Pythagoras, whose always seemed the most interesting and his scenes with Icarus are hands down the best thing about the show. So much so that I didn't want them to end. Enjoy.

_"The weak can never forgive.  Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."_ **Mahatma Ghandi**

 

They entered the forest just as the sun was setting and did not go too far into its depths.  They were all far too exhausted after the battle through the streets of Atlantis and then the long, hot trek through the desert to bare a further distance.  In all that time, no-one had really spoken to Icarus and the silence weighed heavily on him.  Heavier still was the burden of meeting Pythagoras’ eyes as they walked and seeing him look away but not before Icarus caught a glimpse of the sorrow and confusion on his face.

Once they found a suitable place to camp for the night, Pythagoras set out to collect water while Jason went hunting.  Hercules sat down on a rock opposite Icarus and stared at him for a long moment.  Hercules, his father always told him, was neither a particularly good nor a particularly intelligent man, but he did seem to care very much for Pythagoras and that should be better indicator of his worth and he should be respected for it.  More importantly, Pythagoras cared about Hercules. 

“I first met Pythagoras on the boat from Samos.”  Hercules said and then frowned over the memory.  “Wasn’t even fully grown yet.  _He’ll not last 5 minutes below deck,_ that’s what I thought.  ‘You’d best sleep with one eye open.’  Those were the first words I ever spoke to him and I’d laid good odds on him being thrown overboard by nightfall.  But as it turns out, it was the ship’s navigator that was tossed in and he drowned before anyone could fish him out.”  Hercules leaned forward.  “It was a small boat and carried enough supplies to make the journey to Atlantis and no more.  Without someone to navigate, there was no way the water would last while we stumbled around looking for a port.  We were dead men.”

Icarus swallowed, his throat dry.  “Pythagoras.”

“They laughed at him when he stepped forward.”  Hercules shook his head and tapped himself on the chest.  “ _ **I**_ laughed at him, Gods forgive me, but he ignored us all and used some scraps of wood and metal and the stars to plot a course.  He got us home.” 

Icarus tried to smile, still nervous around this man. 

“He surprised me – that bony kid with his skinny arms and his red hair – and he’s gone on surprising me every day since with his loyalty, his courage, his honesty, his faith, his-”

“Me.”  Icarus said and the single syllable fell between them like a stone.  He knew that Hercules had seen their kiss and feared his disgust and censure.

“Now you weren’t a surprise.  I may not have yours or your father’s or Pythagoras’ brains but credit me for at least knowing a friend’s heart.”

Icarus felt a rush of something like relief through him.

“And it’s because I know his heart so well that I think I knew how Pythagoras felt before he did.”  Hercules met his eyes.  “It’s also how I know he’ll forgive you.”

“It is not only Pythagoras that I betrayed.”

“No.  But if Pythagoras does feel like your worthy of his forgiveness then that’s good enough for me.”

“Thank-”

“Don’t thank me.  Just make sure I never regret it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”  Hercules said and got up.  “I think I’ll go get some firework.  With any luck, Jason’ll be back soon with a nice juicy boar.”

Icarus watched him leave.  He stayed watching the place where the man had disappeared into the trees for a long time before his eyes began to stray in the direction that he knew Pythagoras had gone.

 

-o0o-

 

Pythagoras had quickly found the stream and filled their flagons.  Then he had sat beside the flowing water and merely stared into its depth. His mouth felt like the sand that was still trapped between his toes from the long trek across the desert but he did allow himself to drink.  It was as if his muscles had frozen somehow, turned to stone.  He knew he should take the water back to the camp but movement, right now, seemed beyond him.  His heart ached in his chest as fiercely as it did when his father had died.

The water sparkled in the faded twilight and then blurred away.  He felt the tear track down his cheek before he realised he was crying.

 

-o0o-

 

Jason returned to the camp with a brace of rabbits which he quickly skinned and set to roast above the fire that Hercules had made.  Then he sat down beside the flames and smiled as Ariadne came to curl into his side.  She seemed troubled and distant.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Icarus look once again in the direction that Pythagoras had gone.  Then Icarus saw he was being watched and looked down, ashamed.

Jason returned his eyes to Ariadne, who better deserved his attention.  She smiled weakly.

But then a twig snapped and Jason looked round to see Icarus approaching him and when he settled by the fire, he met Jason’s gaze head on.  The boy was at least brave.

“I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness,” Icarus began.  “I did not want-”

Jason put up a hand to stop the explanation.  “This war has caused all of us to do things that we wish we could take back,” he said and felt the heavy guilt of his recent actions settle against his heart.  “We must only move forward.”

Icarus looked down, obviously still deeply ashamed of himself.

Ariadne reached across and took his hand.  “You saved our lives almost at the cost of your own,” she murmured gently.  “As your Queen, I would say your actions have earned you a pardon.”

The boy looked up, with a fragile hope in his eyes and she smiled at him with such warmth, such compassion.  And that there, the sweetness of her voice and the nobility of her soul: that was the reason Jason loved her.

_Medea_ …  Her name whispered to him traitorously.

“Pythagoras should have been back by now.”  Hercules said, breaking the moment.  “I’d best go look for him.”

“No.”  Icarus got to his feet.  “Let me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Icarus saw the hunched figure of Pythagoras in the distance.  He was still beside the stream.  Icarus could only see the back of his friend’s head but guessed he was lost in thought.

“Pythagoras?”

He did not answer.

Icarus knelt at his side and called his name again.  Pythagoras turned his face away but not before Icarus saw the marks of many, many tears marring his skin and reddening his eyes.

 _I mean nothing to you._ The memory lanced through him along with his own impassioned reply.  _You mean everything to me._

Icarus thought of all the things he could say: don’t cry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I cannot bare this…I love you…  But none made it to his lips.  He merely sat at his friend’s side and after a moment, laid just his fingertips against Pythagoras’ arm.  His skin felt warm and soft, much like his lips had.  Their kiss had been all too brief but Icarus had never known a physical touch to be more _right_ , to make so much _sense_ of the world and his greatest fear was that that was all he would ever have.

“The others must be wondering where I am.”  Pythagoras said and his voice was rough.

“Yes.”

“I should have considered how thirsty everyone is.”  He got up, scrubbing at his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hand.  “It was wrong of me to-”

Icarus looked up at him.  “Pythagoras,” he said because he could not stand to hear this man berate himself for taking a few moments to grieve for being betrayed, for loosing something he did not think he could have. 

“I do not…  I can’t…”  Fresh tears welled up and the sight of them sliced through Icarus’ heart.  He gathered the flagons and began to walk away.  Icarus caught his arm.  Pythagoras avoided his eyes.  “Please,” he said, “I need to return to the camp.”

Icarus let go.  “I’m sorry.”

Pythagoras nodded slightly, “I know,” he told him and turned away.

 

-o0o-

 

The small band ate together as darkness fell and then settled to sleep.  Hercules took first watch and he was not surprised when, some hours later, Pythagoras came to sit with him.

“I’ll take over your watch.”  Pythagoras said.  “I cannot sleep anyway.”

The temptation to just accept and curl up by the fire was strong and Hercules got to his feet.  Then he saw the pain on Pythagoras’ face and for a brief moment, tried to tell himself to leave well alone, but then he sighed to himself and sat back down.  “Well, I’ll keep you company if you like.”

“I don’t think I shall be very good company right now.”

“What makes you think I’ll notice the difference?” He teased and then smiled at the look that Pythagoras gave him.  “Sorry.”

Pythagoras sighed and his eyes drifted to the sleeping figure of Icarus.

“You’ll forgive him,” Hercules told him.  “In fact, I think deep down you already have.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can.  Because I know you and I know your heart and I know that no-one kisses another person like that if they haven’t.”

Pythagoras cast him an anxious look.

“And don’t look at me like that, I thought you’d know by now that I cast no judgements on anyone and who you love is who you love and that’s an end to it.” 

“You make it sound so simple.”

Hercules frowned.  “You make maths sound simple.  This is my speciality.”

“Others will not be so kind.”

“Others don’t matter.”  Hercules said firmly. 

“It makes little difference anyway.  I cannot forget the choice that Icarus made.  I cannot forget that it almost cost your lives.”  Pythagoras said.  “And we cannot be together because of it.”

“Medusa thought we couldn’t be together because she was tricked into killing the Oracle.”  Hercules told him.  “That people wouldn’t understand, or that she wouldn’t be forgiven.  But she was wrong.  And she died before I could convince her of it.  There is nothing I can do to change that.”

Pythagoras laid a hand against his arm and his lips started for form Hercules’ name and it would be so easy to allow his friend to offer him comfort, but no.  For once in Hercules selfish life, he would put himself aside and _help._   “Believe me, Pythagoras, if you have a chance to be happy with someone, don’t lose it.”

Pythagoras’ eyes strayed to Icarus again. 

“He’s a good man,” Hercules said, “who loves his father and who loves you.  And he’s earned your love and friendship.  If I knew nothing else about him, that would be enough to convince me of his worth.  But I also know he’s brave and strong and that he’ll carry the guilt of what he did long after any debt has been wiped clean by his actions ten times over.”

His friend’s eyes never left Icarus, but some of the tension had bled away from his narrow shoulders.

Hercules sighed and knew he would have to content himself with that.  Then he stifled a yawn.  “I should turn in.”  He said, getting up.

He was several paces away when Pythagoras called his name softly.  He turned.

“Thank you.”  Pythagoras said.

 

-o0o-

 

The morning brought Medea and the plan to find the Golden Fleece.  They marched through the day, even though the burn of the midday sun, and found the sea just as the light was beginning to turn crimson in the west.

The beach made for a far more welcoming camp than the forest.  The sand was softer than damp loam and moss and the endless shush-shush-shush of the waves lapping at the shore was a comforting lullaby.   
Pythagoras watched Icarus walk at the sea’s edge, bare feet sinking into the wet sand.  He was beautiful. 

Without really thinking about his actions, Pythagoras got up and followed.  He walked slowly, very slowly, and the camp was far in the distance by the time he caught up with Icarus.

Icarus caught his hand.  “I hoped you would follow me,” he told him.  “I did not dare look back because I could not bare to see you had not.”  His hand felt cold against Pythagoras’ skin.  “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, I know I should not ask for it, but I do not think I can meet another dawn knowing that you hate me and so I must beg you for it.”

“I don’t hate you.”  The words came quickly.  “I could never hate you.”  He paused.  “And there is no need to beg for that which…” his heart thudded in his chest, “…which is already yours.”

Icarus’ hands tightened on his, drew them up to his mouth so that he could lay a kiss against his knuckles.  As he did so, he met Pythagoras’ eyes.  “Thank you.”  He kissed his fingers again and repeated the words.

The touch of his lips was like heat crawling inside Pythagoras.  Icarus did not stop gazing at him even as he leaned in and yet Pythagoras found he could not move.  He could feel his friend’s breath moist against his cheek and still he frozen in place.

Lips touched his own and he felt a shiver run through him and suddenly he was kissng Icarus back, mouth opening to him to welcome his tongue.  Arms circled him; strong muscles flexed beneath his hands, warm solid chest pressed against his ribs…the hard jut of desire against his thigh…

It was probably far too soon to do this.

He pulled back a little and there was such a look of disappointment that crossed Icarus’ face that he found his hands cupping his face before he even knew what he was doing.  He could see the stars reflected on the blackness of Icarus’ eyes and thought he might never need to divide the sky into quadrants if only Icarus was with him when he counted.

Too soon…

Too soon…

He heard himself utter it aloud, heard Icarus repeat it, questioningly, back at him.

“There would be no going back.”  Pythagoras said and trusted Icarus to know what he meant. 

“There never was any going back.”  Icarus told him.  “And I never wanted there to be.” 

Icarus kissed him then, hands slipping under his shirt to slide against the skin of his back, his body firm and strong against him.   It was not possible that the sand rose up to meet them and yet Pythagoras had not memory of the transition from standing to being beneath the weight of Icarus’ body.  His groin ached sweetly against the press of his lover’s own arousal.  When that weight lifted, he might have protested had Icarus’ hand not dipped low and closed around his hardened flesh.  Icarus watched his face as he stroked him and perhaps Pythagoras would have felt self-conscious about that had Icarus’ eyes not been filled with wonder at what he was seeing.  And then his body was spasming joyously and that was all his world was made of.

In the quiet moments that followed, Icarus kissed his forehead and murmured something against his skin that Pythagoras could not make out.  He would ask him later, he decided, somewhere in the back of his mind, when his hand was not closing around Icarus’ erect flesh.  He likely the feel of it in his palm, admired the silky slide of his foreskin as it pulled back from the rosy moist head and then folded over it again.  It would do this, just like this, when Icarus was inside him and the thought was a shivery excitement in his gut.

He stroked firmer and then Icarus was jerking and painting his fingers with come.

They lay together for a long time, staring up at the stars, trading small kisses and even smaller words between them.

“I will be worthy,” Icarus said after a long moment.

Pythagoras had almost tumbled into sleep and made a questioning sound.

“One day,” Icarus repeated, “I’ll be worthy.”

Pythagoras frowned, “of forgiveness?”

“Yes,” he laid a kiss against Pythagoras’s lips.  “And of you.” 


End file.
